


I am the sea, and nobody owns me

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Borderline Personality Disorder, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pseudo-Incest, depersonalisation/dissociation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>‘Having an older brother will be nice, won’t it?’</em><br/> </p><p>  <em>‘No.’</em></p><p> </p><p>Loki says a lot of things he doesn't mean. But then again, there's always a bit of truth in every lie. </p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ~

**Author's Note:**

> Revised November 2014. Sorry for any minor grammatical errors, I changed this from past to present tense to fit in with my current writing style. 
> 
> Hopefully an update will come soon.

This has to be the worst day of his entire life, Loki thinks, whilst standing in the hallway with his suitcase and backpack as he waits to be picked up. It's raining outside, and he's certain that he can hear the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. Some summer. 

‘Are you all set and ready to go?’ His social worker smiles at him; that infuriatingly false grin of hers. Loki notices that she has lipstick on one of her teeth. He shrugs. ‘Are you looking forward to meeting your new family?’ she tries, then, putting her hand gently on his shoulder. 

His eyes narrow for but the briefest of moments, and her hand is gone just as quickly. ‘Not really.’ He replies, ‘But I’m getting out of this shithole, and the school they’re going to send me to is _supposed_ to be good. So I can deal with it,’ He looks away from her again and resumes staring out the front window, watching the drops of rain as they bounce arrhythmically off the driveway.  
Karen makes a quiet tutting noise at his language, but she’s long since given up telling him not to swear. Instead, she says, ‘Yes, you’ve an amazing opportunity, it’s usually a very difficult school to get into,’ a pause, ‘Having an older brother will be nice, won’t it?’ 

‘No.’

She doesn't bother saying anything after that, and they stand in an uncomfortable silence until a silver car pulls into the drive and stops just outside the front doors. Loki watches, eyes narrowing again, as a woman and a man climb out and hurry for the shelter of the porch. His gaze flicks briefly to the blonde boy who remains in his seat, and then back to the couple who are now being given a no less then enthusiastic welcome by Karen. 

‘Hi there! It’s so good to see you both again,’ Karen smiles making sure to shake hands with them both, before bringing them over to see the son that they'd chosen to adopt. It reminds him of people collecting a dog from a shelter. He hates it. Loki folds his arms. ‘Loki, are you ready to go?’

‘I suppose,’ 

The woman - Frigga?- steps forward, smiling warmly at him, ‘Why don’t I take you out to the car while Karen speaks to your father, and then we can be on our way?’ She holds out a hand for his case and, despite everything, he finds himself liking her already. 

He lets her take the case and follows a few steps behind as she makes her way out to the car, where she stows it safely in the boot as he slides into the back seat beside his new brother. Brother. A word Loki is going to need some getting used to. 

‘I’m Thor,’ the blonde boy introduces himself, grinning, ‘And you’re Loki, right? It’s awesome to finally meet you, mum and dad have barely shut up about this since the adoption was finalised.’ 

Loki opts not to reply as Frigga takes her place in the front passenger seat. Instead, he looks out of the window and watches the rainrops trickling down the glass while the three of them wait for Odin to finish up inside. Loki suspects that Karen is going over final details with him, getting him to sign some papers, reminding him that _taking on a mentally ill orphan is no easy task_. Loki's sick of hearing about it, he just wants - well. A home. A real one, not like the homes that he's stayed in since his real parents died. It's a long journey from the children’s home to his new house, and Loki finds himself watching a lot of trees and identical green fields whizzing past, along with the occasional farm house, and a few cows. He can feel Thor looking at the back of his head but he refuses to turn around, lest the blonde boy tries to make conversation with him again. His friendliness is unnerving; it's been years since someone has seemed genuinely interested in talking to him, and, if he's honest, Loki isn't entirely sure how to handle the situation. 

Eventually, they pull up outside a Victorian-style country house that has Loki almost gasping aloud when he realises that this - this huge, beautiful building that was far bigger than the entirety of the children's home he'd been living in for almost half of his life - is it. Trying not to gape at it too much, he follows Odin, Frigga and Thor in the front door with his case. 

‘Thor, could you show your brother to his new room so he can get settled in before dinner?’ 

Thor beams as he turned to Loki, ‘Yeah, come on, this way,’


	2. a little lost in this world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! An update! 
> 
> I skipped forward a few years because...well. I lost the really long chapter I'd previously written about Loki settling in and the thought of re-writing it was disheartening. 
> 
> (Also, Loki is seventeen here, Odin and Frigga adopted him when he was fourteen. Thor is nineteen)

It takes him a good three years to realise it, but he never did settle in.

Not really. 

.  
.  
.

 

‘And how does that make you feel?’ 

Loki barks out a short, humourless laugh, and the psychiatrist scribbles something down in her notes before glancing back up, tapping the pen against her top lip, waiting for him to reply. 

‘The diagnosis?’ Loki asks, picking at the worn sleeve of his jumper. She nods, and he shrugs, a brief inclination of his shoulders, ‘I don’t know. Makes sense, I suppose.’ 

The pen scratches against the paper again, grating on Loki’s nerves. He always wondered just exactly what she was writing - what his notes actually said. How fucked up they made him sound. ‘That’s not what I was asking,’ she replies eventually, and Loki’s lip quirks up, just a little. 

‘I know,’ he pauses, ‘You want to know if I’m upset, or if I’m angry, or if I’m going to hurt myself again, right? I don’t care, as long as I’m not put back in that hospital,’ 

‘You don’t feel as though your time there was beneficial,’ it isn’t posed as a question. 

Loki almost laughs again. ‘You know how I was in hospital before, Sarah,’ he pauses, shifting in the hard leather couch and tucking his knees under himself in an attempt to get comfortable, ‘I've been in children's homes, hospitals...it's the same shit on a different level. Locking me up with a bunch of people just as bad as me isn’t going to fix things. It’s not a solution.’

‘You’re perfectly right there,’ she says, nodding, and he squints at her. It’s not often that his psychiatrist agrees with him, ‘It’s not a solution, it’s to keep you safe. From hurting yourself, or other people.’

Loki snorts derisively at his psychiatrist, and she looks at her notebook before putting pen to paper again, glancing up at him while she writes, waiting for him to say something else. He rolls his eyes and rests his chin on his hand, elbow supporting the weight against the armrest of the sofa. 

‘You think I’m unstable? You want to send me back.’ He says, narrowing his eyes accusingly. She puts her pen down, and looks thoughtful for a moment. 

‘You know how this works, Loki,’ she says voice cool, professional, ‘I’m going to ask you a question,’

‘Yeah,’ Loki drawls, impatient with her, ‘And everything depends on my answer, right? What if I just lied to you.’ He’s walking on eggshells now, and he knows it. One wrong word, and she could have him back in that hospital before he can even blink. But he knows her, she’s predictable. He’s as safe as he can be, in this chair. 

‘You could,’ she says, ‘But I’m trusting that you won’t.’

Loki doesn’t respond, waits for her question. He just wants to go home and sleep. 

‘First, let me ask you a few other things. Just for my records. On a scale of one to ten, one being the worst and ten being the best, how do you feel right now?’ 

Loki pauses for a beat, and then says, ‘Two,’ 

Sarah picks up her pen and writes something down. ‘That’s pretty low,’ she comments.

‘Wow,’ Loki says, monotonous, ‘You can count. Well done,’ 

She ignores him and writes something else, and then, ‘Have you hurt yourself, or thought about hurting yourself, in the past week?’ She sees Loki’s hesitation immediately, the subtle tensing of the muscles in his shoulders. He forces it away, swallows, and shrugs. 

‘Yeah,’ 

'Is it a serious injury?' She asks calmly, watching him.

'Nothing worse than usual,' he replies, and realises how fucked up that is.

She hums. 'Okay. I'm not pleased, but we can address self harm in our next session. All important question time. When you go home, on a scale of one to one hundred percent, one being low and one hundred being extremely high, how likely are you to do something that endangers your life or the life of someone around you?’

Loki takes a moment to consider. ‘Sixty five,’ 

She writes it down and then closes her book, looking up at him steadily. ‘And why is that?’

‘I don’t want to. I want to go home and sleep for the rest of the week. But I might. I can’t-‘ he stops, and sighs, loudly, ‘I can’t predict myself. I don’t know how I’m going to feel in five minutes, never mind later on today. I hate it, but I can’t do anything about it. Please don’t put me back in the hospital, it made me feel like shit.’ 

‘Okay.’ She nods, and rises from her seat, ‘I’ll see you next week then,’ 

Loki frowns at her for a moment, but stands as well, eyeing her suspiciously, ‘What, that’s it?’ 

‘Yes. If you feel as though hospitalisation will hinder any progress made then I’m happy to let you go home today. Give me a call if there’s an emergency,’ she goes and opens the door for him, ‘Before you leave, I'd like to have a quick word with your mother, if that's alright with you.’ 

Loki hangs around in the waiting room until Frigga comes out of the room looking pale. She walks right over to where Loki’s leaning against the wall and pulls him into her arms, embracing him until he manages to wriggle out of her grasp uncomfortably and ask if they can leave yet. 

She nods, an awkward silence falling over the two of them as they make their way out to the car. Loki sits in the passenger seat and puts one earphone in, listening to the angriest music he can think of. Five minutes down the road, Frigga offers to take him out for lunch. 

‘We could go to that pizza place you and Thor like, we used to go there a lot, remember?’ She’s trying so hard, and Loki shuts her down before the rational part of his brain can even process what it is that he’s saying. 

‘Yeah, before we found out how fucked up I am and Thor found better ways to spend his time.’ He closes his mouth as soon as the words leave it, not even wanting to look at the expression on Frigga’s face. She doesn’t say anything on the rest of the drive home, fingers tight around the steering wheel, and they get out of the car in silence. Odin’s car is gone, but Thor’s shitty secondhand one is in its usual spot. Loki takes a moment to glare at it as he passes, as if that’ll do anything. 

‘Hi, Thor!’ Frigga calls after she closes the door. Thor replies a moment later, voice muffled from behind the door. Loki takes a bit of time putting his shoes and coat away before following her into the living room. Thor is sitting in Loki’s usual spot on the sofa, texting on his phone, and he glances up as Loki pauses at the door. 

‘Hey,’ he says. Loki ignores him. ‘You want me to move?’ he does, anyway, and Loki wordlessly sits down, curling his knees up to his chest. The seat is still warm. Idly, Loki wonders if Thor always hogs it whenever he’s not around. Frigga makes some small talk with Thor and then goes into the kitchen to make coffee, leaving the two of them alone. 

Thor puts the tv sound down and looks at his brother. 

‘Are you okay,’ he asks. 

‘Shut up.’ 

Thor goes quiet for a moment. Then, ‘Do you want to-‘

‘No,’ 

Loki pulls his phone out and idly scrolls through his notifications. Thor makes a frustrated noise. ‘You used to talk to me,’ he says, sounding hurt. It grates on Loki’s ears. 

‘Pot calling the kettle black,’ Loki says, sarcasm all but dripping from his voice. He glances at his brother from the corner of his eye and sees Thor frown. He manages to stop himself from snorting. ‘It means listen to yourself. You’re being hypocritical.’ 

‘I know what it means, stupid,' Thor glares, 'I mean, how am I being hypocritical?' 

Loki keeps playing around with his phone, trying not to look at his brother’s face. Thor isn’t having any of it. He snatches the phone from Loki’s grip and pulls back, anticipating Loki’s next move easily as his brother lunges at him, snatching for the phone. 

‘Give it back!’ He demands, reaching for it and failing when Thor pushes him away, holding the phone far from Loki’s grasp. 

‘Talk to me properly and I will,’ Thor counters, looking his brother in the eye. Loki twitches, eyes flicking away uncomfortably for a moment before he lunges again, landing right on top of Thor and scrabbling for the phone which Thor still manages to keep away from him. Thor chucks it over to the other sofa and manages to grab loki around the waist before he can go after it. 

‘Loki,’ he says, angling his head so that he doesn’t get a face full of his brother’s hair. He notices that it’s gotten longer and messier than Loki used to allow. He used to spend so much time on his appearance, now he doesn't seem to care. 

Loki squirms. Thor holds on. ‘Stop being a dick,’ Loki grits out, and Thor can’t help but laugh. 

‘Pot calling the kettle black,’ he replies, voice falsely high in imitation. Loki elbows him in the stomach, but stops trying to escape. 

‘What do you want,’ 

Thor noses the back of Loki’s neck. ‘I want my brother back,’ he says, voice soft. Loki doesn’t reply for a long moment, and Thor holds his breath, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

Eventually, he says, ‘Yeah, well, good luck. I have a personality disorder, apparently, so you’re never going to get your brother back,’ He spits the last part, tone clearly mocking Thor’s confession. Thor’s grip tightens on his brother for the briefest moment, before he loosens off and nuzzles into Loki’s neck again. 

‘I don’t care what you have. You’re still Loki,’ he says, firmly, ‘Hey, c’mon, why dont we go out and do something? We could see if there are any good movies on tonight,’ 

Loki snorts, ‘You hate the cinema,' 

‘We can do something else, then. You pick,’ Thor replies, pleased that Loki didn’t say ‘no’ outright. He opens his mouth to speak again when his phone buzzes loudly to his right and he picks it up, answering the call without checking the screen, ‘Hello?’ 

It’s Jane. 

‘Where are you?’ She says, sounding less annoyed and more concerned, ‘I got here about half an hour ago, are you still coming?’ 

Fuck. ‘Uh, yeah. Yeah! Sure. Um. I’ll be there soon, don’t worry,’ Thor garbles, wincing when he sees the way Loki’s shoulders slump, ‘Sorry, something came up. See you soon,’ he tosses the phone down and pauses, before gently resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder. ‘Hey, Loki-‘

‘Something came up, did it,’ he says, voice flat. Thor closes his eyes for a moment.  
‘Sorry, I- sorry. I forgot I’d made plans with Jane earlier this week, we can still do something after if you want. I promise.’

Loki barks out a laugh, ‘Forget it. She’s more interesting than me, or whatever. I won’t wait up,’

.  
.  
.

Loki pretends to be asleep when Thor peers around his bedroom door later that night. The floorboards creak as he shifts uneasily from foot to foot, but Loki keeps his eyes shut, tucks his face under the covers as much as he can without the movement being obvious. He tries to hold his breath. 

'Hey, Loki?' Thor says in a half whisper, trying to test whether or not his brother is awake. Loki doesn't respond. Thor sighs quietly, 'I'm sorry,' he says eventually, clicking the door shut. 

Loki breathes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually going other places but my therapist recommended writing down my feelings and I sort of took that and ran with it. I don't quite think she meant 'take your favourite fictional character and torture him' but whatever, that's what I'm doing. So, because of that, Loki has BPD and I'm taking this as a chance to explore and figure out my own illness through writing.


	3. hard to shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for (brief, if not slightly - um - gross?) mentions of self harm. There's also just a generally depressing feel to this chapter which will probably be a frequent theme with this fic. When I talk about mirroring I mean [ this ](http://glegrumbles.tumblr.com/post/83123369682/bpd-and-mirroring) , which I get a lot and it sucks.  
>    
> This is also basically a short and relatively uneventful filler chapter in which Loki complains. Unedited currently because I'm lazy.

Loki has art therapy the next day, which basically consists of him and another nine people splattering paint onto canvases and complaining about how _shitty_ their lives are. 

There are usually only two therapists present in the room, which Loki supposes is to make them feel comfortable, but he knows that on the other side of the door there are plenty of men in white coats who won’t hesitate to come in and restrain any one of the patients if something goes amiss. 

He’s been there, done that. Got the stickers to prove it. It wasn’t much fun. 

Apparently threatening to cut yourself with the sharp edge of a broken paintbrush gets you hospitalised overnight. Who knew.

Loki doesn’t talk much to the other patients. They annoy him for the most part. He figures it’s a bad thing to dislike people who have the same disorder as you, but he can’t really help it. He’s got no patience for people as it is, without the added _whining_ that comes with being mentally ill. 

Mostly he sits in the corner and makes art. Which is fine, because that’s what he’s there for, at the end of the day. Although, his paintings are routinely the topic of discussion amongst the therapists, and not usually in a positive way. The paintings he considers to be his best are the ones that give his mental health team the most concern.

Loki paints mangled bodies and blood-splattered walls; the shredded flesh of his own arms, the knives that did the damage. They're easily more disturbing when he’s mirroring other people, because he’s hopelessly drawn to those _so much worse_ than himself that he starts to wonder – does Loki even exist?

The evidence would suggest that yes, he does. Because there’s a birth certificate and adoption papers and a thick folder full of his medical notes lying in a drawer in somebody’s office. There are school photographs, from when he was well enough to attend, and there’s a family of people who call him _son_ and _brother_ , but that doesn’t mean anything. 

It doesn’t mean anything when he presses his finger to the pulse point in his neck and feels his heart pumping blood around his body. So there's a body. But that doesn't mean that there's a _Loki_. 

Sometimes he feels like a shell that’s only purpose is to collect the ghosts of other personalities. 

 

Loki’s psychiatrist catches him after his art session and hands him a booklet. It’s printed on the same off-white paper that all his medical forms seem to be, and he turns it over in his hands, frowning down at the cover. 

**Overcoming Depression and Low Mood: Noticing and changing extreme and unhelpful thinking.**

“Read over it,” she suggests, “And we’ll talk about it at our session next week,” 

He puts it away in his bag and tells her, “Sure, see you on Monday,” 

 

When Loki gets home, he dumps his bag in the hall and goes through to the kitchen to get something to drink. Thor’s sitting on one of the stools by the island, doing homework by the looks of it. He glances up when the door opens, and throws his brother a smile. 

“Hey,” he greets, “How was art therapy?” 

“Hm,” Loki lets the door swing shut, and goes straight over to the fridge. He’s not in the mood for talking right now, but he knows Thor will only keep pestering him until he says something back, “Fine,” he says as he retrieves the orange juice. 

“That’s good,” Thor replies, watching Loki pour it into a glass, “How come you never bring your art home? It’d be cool to see some of it. Maybe mum would hang some of it up on the wall,” 

Loki snorts, and finds himself choking on a mouthful of juice. Thor moves to get out of his seat but Loki waves a hand at him, and wipes his face on the back of his arm. “I’m fine,” he says, and then adds, “My therapists like to keep it for my file,”

“That sucks,” 

“I’m sure it does,” Loki leans against the island opposite his brother, and sighs, “I’m exhausted,” He pushes his hair back off his face and scrubs at an eye with the back of his hand. 

Thor puts his pen down and looks over, “Go get some sleep, then. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready,” 

“I won't fall asleep properly,” he says, pushing the glass around distractedly on the countertop, “And I don’t really want dinner anyway,” 

“Hey, I’m just trying to help,” Thor frowns, looking put out, “You don’t need to be snappy,” 

Loki pushes himself upright and gives Thor a blank look, “I wasn't being snappy. I was just replying to you," he takes a step away, and turns for the door, "But whatever, think what you like," He’s got no time for his brother trying to guilt trip him, or whatever it is that he’s attempting to do. Loki ignores Thor’s protests and goes up to his room, where he lies awake on his bed until long after dark. 

When he sleeps, he dreams about the figures from his paintings stepping out of the canvas and dragging themselves silently up the stairs.


End file.
